Dear Effie
by Fluttering Phalanges
Summary: As a means of therapy, Dr. Aurelius makes Haymitch write a letter addressed to Effie Trinket once a week in a journal. Something that Haymitch Abernathy really doesn't want, but ultimately needs. Post Mockingjay. Warning: Alludes to a character's death.


_Author's note: I've been working on this one shot for about a week now and finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. -Jen_

* * *

**May 5**

Effie,

Just thought you should know this wasn't my idea. Personally, I think that writing in a damn journal is for pansies but agreeing to do so was the only way I could get out of this session with Dr. Aurelius. Don't understand his reasoning for making me do this but I'm sure you'd be on his side about it. You always had that knack for finding a reason for every damn thing that occurred. Guess you could have considered that a talent of yours. Not sure what else right now. Going to just end this before it gets any more pointless.

–Haymitch

**May 12**

Effie,

Dr. Aurelius is making me keep up with this damn thing. One entry every week, he says. I'd rather take a bottle of Cyanide pills but somebody has to look after those geese. Can't trust Peeta and Katniss with that. Those damn kids. But I guess they mean well. Maybe. That's all for now.

–Haymitch

**May 19**

Effie,

It's week three. Not sure how much longer I'm going to be made to keep up with this. I know if it were you making me do this, you'd have one of those stupid schedules that would tell me. At least that way I would know for sure... Never did like your schedules though. Too much planning, never any down time. But they did always got us to where we needed to be. So evidently, no matter how ridiculous I found them, they worked. Good job, sweetheart, finally got that compliment you always wanted out of me.

–Haymitch

**May 26**

Effie,

Welcome to entry four. Surprised I've kept up with this, this long? Yeah. Me too. Anyway, Hazelle Hawthorne was over here the other day cleaning up the place and she came across one of your stupid bottles of florescent pink nail polish. How the hell it got in my bedroom table's drawer, I don't know. But I kept it. Don't know why I did, it's not like you're going to use it anytime soon but I just felt the garbage can didn't do anything to be burdened with that... Probably will throw it out eventually.

–Haymitch

**June 2**

Effie,

Already June, kind of hard to believe. Or maybe not. Just feels like it all has gone by so fast for me but I guess that's what happens when you get old. They had that memorial service or whatever the hell you want to call it for the victims of the Hunger Games and of the Rebellion on the television today. I turned it off. Don't really see the point of exploiting people like that but to each his own. You probably wouldn't bother with watching it either. Bet you'd be looking at yourself in your mirror instead. Picking out some ungodly colored wig and applying enough makeup to prefect the entire population of District One... But you'd pull it off. Somehow. Oh yeah, your birthday was the other day. You would have been thirty nine. Probably would have yelled at me for admitting your age but someone would have figured out eventually. Happy birthday, Princess.

–Haymitch

**June 9**

Effie,

It's been raining for a week straight. Greasy Sae says it's so bad that the damn trains are stuck in District Two until the flooding subsides. Guess that means it's pretty bad everywhere. Hurricane season, go figure. Least I've got the geese to occupy me until the damn liquor arrives. Makes me think of the 70th Hunger Games where it just started pouring in the middle of the Reaping and you got sopping wet. I thought it was pretty damn hilarious but you had you panties all up in a bunch about it so I gave you my jacket. Didn't think cocoa brown or whatever the hell you called that color suited me anyways. Least you seemed satisfied with it.

-Haymitch

**June 16**

Effie,

You'd think after years of being subjected to it, I would be used to the silence. Not that I mind much living alone. It's just that sometimes I notice how quiet things are. That some small part of me wishes I had maybe settled down with someone when I had the chance. The larger part of me knows that that would never work anyhow. At least of got my geese. And, even though I still find it stupid and useless and as enjoyable as drinking piss, it is kind of nice having this journal to right in. Even though you can't respond, it's nice to have a conversation. Even if the damn person isn't there. Miss you, Princess, even if you got on my every last nerve.

-Haymitch

**June 23**

Dear Effie,

Trains finally came today. Hadn't even noticed until Peeta stopped by my door to tell me. Maybe it's this summer heat but just not feeling as thirsty as I used to. Maybe I'll skip out on a bottle or two from my usual purchase from the Hob. You always did nag me about my drinking, maybe I should have listened more. Not that it matters to start now. But I guess maybe it's the thought that counts.

-Haymitch

**June 30**

Dear Effie,

Katniss and Peeta finally decided to get married. Actually married. No forced engagements. No written contracts. They both seem...happy. It's been awhile since I've seen him or even her for that matter smile the way they did when they came by and told me. I always thought marriage was pointless. Victors like us, we're meant to be alone. But maybe I'm wrong about that. I don't know, I've made a lot of mistakes in my past. Sometimes I wonder if the situation was different. If I wasn't who I am now that maybe I'd have a different outlook on things. Guess I'll never know.

-Haymitch

**July 7**

Dear Effie,

Summer is finally at its highest point. Every damn flower seems to be in bloom and the meadow smells like one of your toilet water perfumes. A lot of things seem to remind me of you. Didn't really realize it that much until I started writing these entries but it's like I see you everywhere. Flowers. Sunsets. Quiet Sunday mornings. Dark nights. Every time I hear the damn train whistle blow, I half expect to see you getting off. I wish you'd just get out of my damn head. Leave me alone for a little while. But then again guess I don't. I know I don't. I wish I knew what was wrong with me. Wish you were here to help me figure it out.

-Haymitch

**July 14**

Dear Effie,

You know something's not right with me when I actually begin to not mind writing in the journal. Though, I won't tell Dr. Aurelius and let him have the satisfaction in that. Anyway, Hazelle brought Posy the other day. Kid seemed to get into everything she was not supposed to but I didn't mind too much. Kids will be kids, I guess. I wonder if you'd of like to have had kids. Maybe a girl. Someone you could dress up just as ridiculously as you. Poor kid, doesn't even exist and I still feel sorry for her. But I think you would have made a good mother. You were good with the tributes even if you denied that fact to yourself. Never did give yourself enough credit, Princess. I never gave you enough either.

-Haymitch

**July 21**

Dear Effie,

You'd probably make me regret admitting this seeing as you believe that you're right on almost everything, but I want to apologize for the argument we had during the Third Quarter Quell. If I had known it'd be the last time I'd see you, maybe I would've been more willing to wear those God awful golden cufflinks you want me to. Something that stupid to be bothered with seems so silly now. I'd wear a hundred damn cufflinks if it'd bring you back.

–Haymitch

**July 22**

Dear Effie,

I know it hasn't been a week since my last entry but I wanted to add this to the last entry and forgot. Guess I'm starting to go senile. Go figure. But I wanted to apologize for my, as you would put it, foul language throughout these letters. I'll try to improve on that because I know if you were here you'd want me to. Or, scold me until I did, at least.

–Haymitch

**July 28**

Dear Effie,

Even though it's been several months since you left, I guess it still hadn't registered with me until now. I was going through one of my drawers Hazelle never seems to bother to clean and I cam across an old newspaper. Think it was from the sixty eighth game but I don't know. You were on the cover though, wearing god knows what and smiling god knows how wide. And then it hit me that this would probably be the closest thing I'd ever see to you smiling again. There's this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, a sort of twisting sensation that I haven't felt in a long time. Maybe I'm getting sick.

–Haymitch

**August 4**

Dear Effie,

Can't believe it's already August. I guess I'm starting to lose track of time, life's been going so fast by me. At least I've had time to think. A lot of time. And I've come to the conclusion about something. Maybe. Even though you and I had our differences-a lot of them frankly-I guess, in a way, you could say we were friends. Maybe. At least, I'd like to think that once we put everything aside, we would be. I could just be losing my mind.

Your friend,

Haymitch

**August 11**

Dear Effie,

I caught myself looking at that picture of yours the other day. The one I told you I found in the newspaper? Maybe if you didn't wear so much make up, you wouldn't have looked like such a cartoon character. ...Sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out that way. I'm no good with words. What I meant was, I think you would have looked pretty even without the makeup. Guess I'll never see for sure though.

Your friend,

Haymitch

**August 18**

Dear Effie,

A lot of big things happened this week. Peeta and Katniss finally tied the knot. The ceremony was small, but pleasant enough that I wasn't utterly bored to death. Just some family and friends. Just how it ought to be. But also this week, Dr. Aurelius said that I was progressing enough along that he thought I didn't need to have an appointment every other week but rather once a month, maybe even longer. He said I could even stop with this journal if I so chose to. Honestly, Princess, I'm not sure if I will. Why would something that would have seemed so appealing to me weeks ago seem so hard now? My stomach is getting worse and now my head and chest are as well. Maybe I have cancer.

Your friend,

Haymitch

**August 25**

Dear Effie,

I took the train to Four the other day seeing as I know if you were here, you'd force me to go to see a doctor about these discomforts. I wanted to get Mrs. Everdeen's opinion on all of this because hers is the only one I trust. Anyway, I went through a bunch of tests and this morning, I got a call that I was completely healthy. Strange, huh? Well, if I'm not sick, wonder why I've been feeling so weird. Maybe I really am going crazy.

Your friend,

Haymitch

**September 1**

Effie,

I finally figured out what was wrong with me. Yesterday, I had my last weekly appointment with Dr. Aurelius and, I guess maybe because I'm getting too comfortable with him, told him about these strange feelings I have been experiencing. And, he told me something that I wasn't expecting. That I really didn't want to know. That maybe, just maybe, I'm...in love. Well, I'll tell you one thing, Princess, I learned never to love. That all I have ever loved is gone and that it makes no sense, none at all, that I would love you because you're gone and that makes no sense. I don't even know why I'm writing to you. You're dead, it's not like I'm even communicating with you. Thank Panem this is my last entry, the whole idea of this was damn stupid to begin with.

–Haymitch

**September 2**

Dear Effie,

I know it hasn't been a week. I know I said I was done. I know you can't hear me but I need to get some things off of my chest. I did some more thinking. A lot of thinking. Love is stupid. The word is overused and doesn't mean what it use to. Love gets people in trouble, makes things hurt when it goes away. It's ridiculous. It's pointless. But like a terminal disease, it's impossible to stop. I know, I've tried. I've tried to reason with myself about all of this. Any of this. But I can't.

To be blunt, I miss you. Your damn make up. That unnecessary accent. Your too frilly of clothes. Everything about you. And I guess in a romance novel, this would be the point where I'd look out my window and you'd be standing there in the rain and I would of course have to run out there and we'd look at each other, both trying to speak at the same time before one of us grabs the other and we kiss. But that won't ever happen. You're gone. You've been gone. And this pain I've felt. All of it. Is because of you.

And I hate you. Hate you for leaving. Hate that you are doing this to me. And I hate myself for not being able to save you when I could have easily. That if I had been faster. If I had not been so stupid, you could be here arguing with me about pointless things instead of me writing these damn entries that only I will ever be able to read. I would have given my own life if yours could have been spared. Would have then, still would now. And I am so sorry I couldn't have. Sorry for the both of us.

I don't mean for this to sound like a sob story. To sound weak or silly for pouring out my feelings on some damn page like some prepubescent girl, but even I can't admit these things out loud. I won't say that I love you. It's just a word. A feeling that can't be described to the fullest extent in one syllable. But I will say this. If we had been given the chance together, I would have kissed you in the rain like some crappy romance story. I would have sat beside you at the kids' wedding and maybe even held your hand. I would laugh if a goose chased you. Comforted you after you cried about it. Maybe even picked a bouquet or two of those flowers in the meadow for you. And maybe we would have gotten married. Maybe even had a kid if we were lucky. Maybe not. But sometimes dreams are better than nothing at all.

These entries once of week have been some of the only things I've look forward to. In a way, even though you aren't here, it's made me feel closer to you. I won't say I'm in love, Effs, but if you really had wanted me to, I think this time I would've given into your demands without an argument.

With much love,

Haymitch Abernathy

_The End._


End file.
